


who will see you through these dark days

by eomerking



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M, but not for long, evie and henry are both so shy and proper it's ridiculous, evie is Not Good at things, henry is annoyingly calm and together, teensy bit of gore, that'll probably change as the chapters go on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 12:26:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5828524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eomerking/pseuds/eomerking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There is no shame in receiving help, especially not from those who have already sworn to aid you.” Mr Green said quietly, kneeling at her feet and taking the sewing kit in hand. He didn’t look concerned about the proximity they now shared - his dark eyes were fixed wholly on finding an appropriate needle.<br/>---<br/>instances that very much did not happen in the game, but an exploration of possibilities between Evie Frye and Henry Green</p>
            </blockquote>





	who will see you through these dark days

**Author's Note:**

> none of this is canon, but this is an AU so i'm gonna mess with 19th century norms, make characters horribly gooey and lovesick and no-one can stop me.  
> (i apologise for any ooc moments, i tanked through the game an i really should go back and watch cutscenes haha)

_Bloody Jacob._

Even when he wasn’t here he was still causing Evie problems. As far as she knew, he was off cavorting in Southwark with his most rambunctious Rooks, and the ones he left behind in Whitechapel apparently didn’t have enough sandwiches between them to make anywhere _near_ a full picnic.

Hence why she was now spitting feathers in the back of a Growler, one hand covering the bloody hole in her leg and the other over massaging her temple as the Rook beside her gushed apologies. It’s bad enough that she got _shot_ for their ineptitude, and now she had to sit and listen to one of them blather apologies.

“We really are sorry, Miss Frye, honest,” he stammered, ringing his flat cap between his hands. His checker-green coat was splattered with blood; hers, a few Blighters’, and some of his own as well.

“I appreciate your apology,” Evie replied tersely, lying quite thoroughly, and wincing as the Rook driving took a corner a little too fast. The Growler clipped a curb and Evie very nearly demanded to get out and walk, “but that does very little to tell me why _two_ of you Rooks were attempting to take on _six_ Blighters.”

“Mr Jacob sir told us that we should ‘arass them as much as we was able to, Miss.” The Rook explained, looking very much uncomfortable. Obviously Jacob hadn’t included any sort of intelligence tests as he recruited the Clinkers over to become his precious Rooks.

“That’s just fantastic,” Evie laughed. She was too annoyed to be properly bemused, so her laugh sounded more like an unpleasant bark. It made the Rook flinch and Evie didn’t mind in the slightest, “Of course he did.”

She thumped the carriage door, raising her voice, “Are we nearly there yet?”

“Nearly, Miss Frye, Nearly!” The Rook called back, her voice wobbling terribly. Evie sighed. On another day she might have chastised Jacob for applying his resources so carelessly, but right now all she wanted was to get out of this damned, rickety, _awful_ cart and sew herself up.

Then, all of a sudden, Evie heard a horse bray and she was flung into the front wall of the carriage. She hissed and swore and slapped the Rook’s offered hand away.

“Thank you, but I am _fine_.” She shot him a glare and raised her voice so the Rook outside would hear. “Go back to the rest of your gang, get that area cleaned up, and then; Do. Not. Move. If I read in the papers of bodies found by the police or of a gang fight in Whitechapel, you’ll be sorrier than you are even now.”

“Y-yes, Miss Frye.” The Rook snapped her a badly done salute, but Evie took the meaning and hoped that her brother had at least drilled some sort of discipline and ability to follow orders into his ridiculous syndicate.

“Good. Now get _gone_.”

She slipped out of the carriage with only a slight wince, and as soon as her feet hit the pavement the carriage veered off. The Rooks were probably already muttering about Mr Frye’s bitch of a sister. _Let them_ , Evie thought. She's had quite enough of foolishness for the day. If she saw another Rook any time soon she’d probably thrash them just for the sport of it.

The Rook had pulled the Growler onto the curb a few yards away from the entrance of Mr Green’s shop, and Evie wanted to swear anew when she saw another carriage taking the Frye’s normal space. The shop door was open and she could hear the sound of conversation within.

Which meant that she couldn’t go through the front.

_Damnation!_

“It’s just not my day today, is it?” Evie murmured quietly, limping down the alley beside the shop and trying valiantly not to make it look as if she’d just been shot in the leg. She supposed her acting skills weren’t quite up to par when she slipped on the blood that had stuck on the soles of her shoes and hit the ground quite spectacularly, turning the air blue all the way down.

It was probably enough to make any well-bred lady faint from sheer shock.

Evie clambered to her feet – or the one foot not attached to a bleeding limb - with the help of a handily placed fence post, then she looked at the task of making her way into Mr’s Green’s shop. Fortunately, the way up to the first floor window seemed relatively short and relatively easy, but Evie doubted that even something so easy would _actually_ be easy right now.

Evie paused as she stared at the back of the shop, drumming her fingers against the brick wall as she summoned the courage to potentially do herself even more damage as she  would clamber up the wall. She repositioned herself at the bottom so she could reach a better handhold and found herself growing woozy.

“ _Blast it_ ,” She snarled at no one in particular, launching herself at the building before the dizzying sensation could pass. She smacked her thigh against the wall almost straight away, and Evie could almost _feel_ the brick dust invading the torn flesh the bullet had left in its wake. Yet again, she cursed her twins name, both in her head and quietly under her breath.

It took a lot longer to get to the window than she thought it would – even after she factored in the blood-loss which is rapidly becoming apparent - and Evie is very nearly ashamed at how she’s huffing as she scrambled at the lock at the window. It was almost preposterously easy to fiddle with it and wrench the window open. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think that Mr Green almost _wanted_ uninvited guests in his house, but the thought passed quickly when one of feet slipped on the brickwork and she head-butted the windowsill.

Evie just about made it into the building before she passed out, falling into a heap on the soft carpet. For a second she just lay there, glad that Mr Green apparently didn’t believe in hardwood flooring.

Eventually, Evie felt the pressing need to get the hole in her leg sewn up – and was even more aware of the fact that she was currently leaking blood all over Mr Green’s nice, very comfortable carpet.

“Hell’s bloody _teeth_ ,” Evie hissed, struggling to sit up. She wrapped one hand firmly around her bleeding leg and used the other to steady herself as she rose from the floor, then limped her way to a wide dresser on the other side of the room. It looked exactly where a person might keep their sewing kit. Or at least she hoped it did.

As Evie stumbled her way to the piece of furniture that felt much further away than it surely was, she became acutely aware of the fact that she’d somehow managed to propel herself into a bedroom above Mr Green’s shop. Ostensibly, Mr Green’s bedroom. She took a second to admire the delicate wallpaper and the blue carpet she’d ruined, as well as the multitude of beautiful ornaments around the room; most Indian, some vaguely oriental.

Rummaging her way through the drawers, and choosing to investigat the smaller drawers in the effort of avoiding undergarments and shirtsleeves, she came up with everything she needed; needle, thread, bandages, paper to leave an apologetic note for the theft of Mr Green's items and also the damage to his property.

Her tools clutched in her hands, Evie searched for the nearest comfortable surface to sew herself up on, and grimaced when she saw the bed. However, it was an awful lot closer than the armchair by the window. The impropriety is almost enough to make her go to the chair, but her good sense makes it clear that she probably won’t make it.

Before she ruined Mr Green’s bedspread as well as the carpet, Evie shrugged out of her coat and spread it carefully over green, soft-looking sheets. Thinking on her manoeuvrability, Evie quickly unbuttoned her waistcoat, the threw that to the floor along with her cravat. Then she sat down heavily and began the arduous task of taking her boots off. Her hope was that if she took off the boot on her injured leg she could simply roll her trousers up instead of having to pull them down, as she would really like to minimize the chances of Mr Green finding her alone, in his bedroom, half-naked.

Evie was halfway through the laces on the other when she heard a soft cough from the doorway.

“Miss Frye?”

Evie very nearly jumped, and had to fight to keep the colour from rising her cheeks. She must look an awful harlot right now; hair a mess, pink-cheeked, undressing in Mr Green’s own bedroom as he stood in the door way. Mr Green himself looked highly alarmed at her being in his abode in such a state, though he quickly covered his shock with affable bemuement. His cheeks were burning as much as hers were, and Evie wanted to hurl herself out of the window to save them both the embarrassment.

“Ah, Mr Green,” Evie replied stiffly, “I’m dreadfully sorry to have taken you away from your customers,”

“The Joinsons heard the thump as well as I did. I told them I had a cat.” A smile twisted his lips, and he raised one single, dark eyebrow at her.

“That was well thought, Mr Green.” Evie replied, “Regardless, I shall be gone soon. I need only to see to myself and I shall be on my way.”

“’See to yourself’?” Mr Green’s eyebrows furrowed, and he took a step towards her. As he moved, he must have spotted the dark splatter of blood on his pale carpet. His furrowed brows became a look of whole concern. “You are injured, Miss Frye?”

“It is nothing I cannot deal with myself, truly. Return to your customers,” Evie said evenly, working a smile onto her face. She tucked her hair behind her ears, immediately realising her mistake when Mr Green's eyes locked onto the tremble in her hand that he could see as clearly as Evie did.

“Mr Joinson and his wife have already left with their purchases,” Mr Green said, coming far closer to Evie than was entirely proper. The colour in his cheeks had been dimmed by his concern, but Evie was fairly certain that any blood not currently flowing from her leg was now taking residence in her face. “Where is it that you are wounded?”

“Mr Green, really-”

“Where are you wounded, Miss Frye?” Mr Green repeated firmly, folding his hands and looking very much unimpressed. Evie looked away from him barely disguised shame, anger rising at her own predicament.

“A bullet hole in my left thigh, Mr Green,” She said, her jaw clenching at the admittance, “Something I am entirely capable of-”

“Show me your hands, Miss Frye,” Mr Green said, with a gentle, unyielding patience that made Evie want to shout loud, bad names at him. She offered her hands to him, palms up, closing her eyes as she felt the tremors run through them. Mr Green took them in his own, his palms warm and steady as he pressed her hands together, trapping them between his.

“You could not thread a rope right now, Miss Frye, never mind horse-hair,” Mr Green said, and the shame Evie felt burnt ever much brighter. She had hoped to be in and out and leave only a note in her passing, but now a veritable stranger within the Brotherhood would know of her inability to handle simple street thugs. She felt like a chastised child, caught in an act of stupidity and having everyone know about it. 

Evie met Mr Green’s eyes, and was surprised at the softness she saw there. He offered her a quick, lopsided smile, and slowly let go of her hands. The tremors had died down to a slight shake.

“There is no shame in receiving help, especially not from those who have already sworn to aid you.” Mr Green said quietly, kneeling at her feet and taking the sewing kit in hand. He didn’t look concerned about the proximity they now shared - his dark eyes were fixed wholly on finding an appropriate needle. He motioned for her to carry on unlacing her boots.

“I-” Evie swallowed around the lump in her throat; the unease of letting someone who wasn’t Jacob see her so weak. “Thank you, Mr Green.”

Already halfway through threading the needle, the pale thread caught between his dark lips, Mr Green smiled.

“You are welcome, Miss Frye.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'd really appreciate any comments, bc this is the first piece i've done for ac an i'm finding it quite difficult to pin the characters down haha


End file.
